


All This Beauty

by Sarea Okelani (sarea), vatrixsta



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarea/pseuds/Sarea%20Okelani, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatrixsta/pseuds/vatrixsta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's up to Merlin to keep Arthur, Gwen, and Lancelot from falling apart when Uther puts them in a situation that threatens the future of Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akscully](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=akscully).



> This is a late Christmas present for our dear friend Amelia. We had her pick a few elements (revealed at the end) and crafted a story around them. So everything can pretty much be blamed on her. We began plotting and writing this story after 3x10, so the story is technically AU. Any similarities between elements of this story and canon after 'Queen of Hearts' are purely coincidental -- but awesome!

All This Beauty  
by Jade and Sarea Okelani

~*~

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was a gorgeous day outside, and for once, Arthur Pendragon's mood matched his surroundings. He was having a great day. A spectacular day. The best day in the history of days.

"You look unbearably smug," said the reason for his good mood.

"That, Guinevere," he replied, "is exactly how I feel." He grinned at her, then pulled the blankets over his head and rolled over, essentially taking them all with him.

"Arthur?"

"What?" His voice was muffled.

"I'm cold."

"Maybe you should put some clothes on." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the smirk.

"I'd rather have my blankets, thank you." She tugged on them ineffectually. He had good and cocooned himself. She aimed a light punch at what she thought might be his shoulder. Of course, it probably made little impact on someone who wielded a sword for hours every day. He probably hadn't even felt the blow.

"Remember when we had that talk about thinking of someone other than yourself?" Gwen prodded.

In a sudden movement that caused her to let out an involuntary squeal, he lifted the blankets, pounced on her, and re-cocooned them in the space of about half a second.

It was dark in there. And difficult to breathe. But then he was kissing her and neither of those things mattered. After awhile -- neither could say how long -- they resurfaced for air again.

"I need to get a bigger bed," Gwen murmured, tired in a way that was blissful.

"I like it," Arthur responded, stroking her hair hypnotically. She forced herself to stay awake, though she wanted more than anything to fall asleep in his arms.

"You like it," she repeated in a bit of disbelief. "The both of us don't _fit_ in this one."

She felt him smile against her hair. "That's the best part. You have to lie half on top of me. It's bloody fantastic."

"Says the one who takes up about three quarters of it," Gwen scoffed.

"You prefer me to lie on top of you, then?"

This kind of talk could still make Gwen blush, despite the intimacies they'd been sharing for a few months now. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. "You should get back," Gwen said, trying to hide her inexplicable shyness. "You'll be missed."

"And I won't be missed if I leave here?" he demanded, pulling her in a bit tighter.

"You will be missed, my lord," she said, indulging his clear desire to be mollified. "Very much so."

His eyes went half lidded again and he lowered his head toward hers. As difficult as it was to do, Gwen turned her face away teasingly and gave him a slight push. "Don't start that again. We'll never leave this bed if you do."

Arthur sighed. "That doesn't sound terrible to me." However, he grudgingly sat up and began to pull his clothes on.

Gwen kissed his neck while helping him dress, and he grunted and acted as though she were getting in the way, but she knew it helped ease the sting of their imminent parting.

Finally, he was fully dressed and they could not delay the moment any longer. They stood there looking at one another, he fully dressed, she wrapped in the blankets he'd just vacated.

"I don't want to leave," he said, his voice husky.

"One day you won't have to," she responded, smiling.

He crushed her mouth under his in a final kiss, then opened the door and stepped out into a sunlit day. At least no one could take that away.

~*~

Uther Pendragon was trying to read the parchment in front of him, but the words kept blurring together. Obviously, he was not going to get any work done today. Just as yesterday. And the day before that.

"Sire?"

"Leave me," he said, waving his hand. He threw down his quill with a sense of disgust – at himself, for allowing her to distract him in this way, and at _her_ , for being what she was.

"But sire... these agreements... they need to be signed," the court scribe said hesitantly. Very few people ever wanted to contradict the King, and this man was no exception.

Uther did not usually mind an underling's fear. He believed in commanding respect, and if that came from adulation or fear he did not have a preference. Today, however, the man's milquetoast mannerism wore on his already stretched nerves. "I said _leave me_ ," he repeated in a dangerously quiet voice.

At this the court scribe and the rest of them left post haste, closing the door soundly behind them. Finally, Uther was alone to wallow in his dark thoughts. The thoughts that plagued him seemingly every waking moment, as well as those when he was asleep. That his daughter, his Morgana, could be one of _them_ , part of that evil, duplicitous, scheming group ... he still found difficult to believe at times. How was it possible that a child of his blood could be so tainted? It must be due to her mother; there was no other explanation.

Or possibly that Morgana was not actually his child after all. He'd never had reason to doubt her mother before, but now, with her being a _sorceress_ , he'd had to consider the idea that perhaps he hadn't been Lysandra's only lover. Still, regardless of whether or not she was his blood daughter, he'd grown to care about her over the years, even love her. For her to have betrayed him like this, to be one of the enemy after all he'd given her, rankled. It shook him to his core. If evil could find its way so close to his home, where else might it lurk?

"My lord, you seem to be thinking unpleasant thoughts," said an amused and lilting voice. A familiar voice.

Uther whipped around in its direction, unable to believe what he was hearing. How _dare_ she return here? He opened his mouth to call for his guards, but she was too quick. One muttered spell later and he was rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move.

"That's better," Morgana said, coming into view from behind a pillar where she'd apparently been hiding. Or perhaps she'd only just arrived. Who knew what she was capable of? She was just as beautiful as he remembered, dressed in a dark green gown that complemented her long dark hair perfectly. Her pale skin was as creamy and unblemished as always, her eyes wide and sparkling. Was her preternatural beauty a result of the magic that ran in her veins? Had it been a sign that he should not have missed? "I like it best when you don't talk."

She walked toward where he sat, her movements fluid. She had a pleasant smile on her face, so like all the other smiles she'd given him over the years, but which he now knew had been full of treachery. Uther hoped his disgust of her showed in his eyes, since all his facial muscles were frozen.

"What's the matter? You don't look happy to see me," she said, sounding amused. She had reached him now, and stretched out a hand to caress his face.

Uther wanted to flinch back from that strangely warm touch, which once he would have welcomed. It didn't seem right that her touch should be full of heat, like a normal human being's. It ought to be cold, like her heart, like the witch she was.

"Don't be frightened, my lord. I'm here to help you." The sweetness of Morgana's tone belied the mischief in her eyes. "You don't believe me?" His gaze must have conveyed his scorn, for she laughed. "I assure you it's true. You see, neither of us want to see my old serving girl on the throne of Camelot." She raised her eyebrows. "Surprised? I know you believe that problem took care of itself, but that is because you are a gullible old fool. There isn't an enchantment. There was never an enchantment. Arthur is in love with her, and she him. Once you are dead and Arthur is made king, he plans to make her his queen. I have seen it in visions."

Was this ... could this be true? Morgana was a witch, Uther reminded himself. She was not to be trusted. All she spoke were lies.

"You should be thanking me," Morgana continued. "I am going to take care of one of your problems for you, a problem you didn't even know you had because of your willful blindness. Neither of us want a servant as Camelot's queen, and I am going to see it never comes to pass. I believe that is one of our common goals. Yes, Uther, you heard me -- one of. For you and I are more alike than you think, _Father_." All traces of amusement had gone now. "And yes, I know the truth of my birth. How it must burn you inside to know that you fathered a child of magic." She clasped his face in her hands, hard. Had she the strength she might have crushed his skull. "You don't know how lucky you are, Father dearest."

Uther didn't want to be afraid of Morgana, his own flesh and blood. But even more he did not want to be afraid of Morgana, the sorceress. He did not want the latter to have the satisfaction. But he could not deny the fissure of fear that opened in his heart. What was she planning? Arthur's feelings for the serving girl Gwen had been due to an enchantment, which had been broken. Hadn't it? If Uther was honest with himself he would admit that he'd caught Arthur staring at the girl several times since that time, but had never made any mention of it to his son. Perhaps he'd been content to ignore the signs, the ones that had shown that the enchantment had not been broken after all, or worse, that it had never existed in the first place.

But even if that were true, time would take care of the matter soon enough. Arthur's supposed feelings for this girl wouldn't last. It was a fleeting fancy, an infatuation because the girl was comely, that was all. The evils of magic weren't necessary under any circumstance. He'd learned that painful lesson first hand.

"You don't seem convinced." Morgana drew back and a smile had returned to her beautiful face. A familiar ring sat in the palm of her hand. Uther's heart started at the sight of it. Where had she gotten that? He wanted to demand an answer, but couldn't. The ring was made of a burnished gold, with a dragonfly crest, muted in its elegance. Morgana whispered a few words in a language he did not understand, and her eyes glowed.

The fissure opened a bit more.

Uther felt Morgana slip the dragonfly ring onto the last finger of his right hand. He felt her breath against his ear as she whispered, "Until next time, my lord." He felt the delicate wisps of her hair against his cheek as she drew away.

And then he felt no more.

~*~

"It is done, Sister."

Morgause turned at the sound of Morgana's voice. A smile broke out on her face. "Excellent. You did everything we discussed?"

Morgana helped herself to some fruit and cheese from the table. "Of course. Uther will not remember I was there, but he'll remember the information I gave him about Arthur and Gwen."

"And the ring I gave you? The one that belonged to Ygraine?"

"I've placed a strong enchantment on it." Morgana was proud of what she'd done. It was usually Morgause who did the difficult magic, but this time she had insisted that she would take care of it. She wanted to be a strong partner for Morgause. "It will open his mind to extreme possibilities. He'll find creative ways to solve his problems and ours without our having to do a thing."

Morgause placed a hand on Morgana's arm. "Subtle, but effective. I am proud of you, Sister."

Morgana smiled, feeling pleasure travel from the gentle pressure of her sister's hand to her heart.

~*~

"I have a proclamation to make. It will take effect immediately."

"Yes, Father." Arthur was only half listening. His mind kept wandering back to the morning's activities, the image of Gwen wrapped in blankets. It was all he could do to keep a foolish grin from appearing on his face.

"Henceforth, all unmarried women will be subject to questioning under suspicion of sorcery, and if found guilty by my council, will be put to death immediately."

It took a second for the words to sink in. " _What?_ " For a hopeful moment Arthur wondered if his father were joking, but he knew as well as anyone that Uther did not joke about magic. Ever. "Have you lost your mind?"

"How dare you?" Uther slammed his hand onto the table, making the goblets rattle. "I am your father and your king. You will show me some respect."

It was as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over Arthur. The warmth he'd been feeling from the morning dissipated. "Yes, sire. I apologize. But -- why? I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. It doesn't even--"

"You don't need to understand my reasoning, Arthur, you only need to do your duty and carry out your king's wishes," Uther said. "Is that understood?"

"No!" Arthur burst out, unable to help himself. "This is asinine! There must be dozens of unmarried women in Camelot. Are they all to suffer through an interrogation?"

Uther waved his hand dismissively. "If they are truly innocent, they can be married at once."

"Just like that," Arthur said in disbelief. "Just ... get married."

"There's no reason a woman of marriageable age should not be married," said Uther.

Arthur could barely find the words to counter this, it was so out of the realm of reason. "Well, perhaps they haven't found the right man."

"If they wish to prove their innocence, they will." Uther looked supremely unconcerned with how his decree would affect women all over the kingdom.

"Prove their inno-- Father, this is madness. Why would an unmarried woman be more prone to sorcery than any other?"

"I know it to be true." Uther looked utterly certain. No doubt whatsoever crossed his features.

Still, Arthur had to try and dissuade him. He'd always known that his father's hatred of magic superseded all else, possibly even common sense at times. It didn't make Uther weak; just human. Arthur was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt most of the time. But _this_... he could not let this stand. "Father--"

Uther's gaze pierced Arthur where he stood, his face looking graver than Arthur had ever seen it. "Don't think I don't know why you're so concerned about this, Arthur."

The blood seemed to freeze in Arthur's veins. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think me a fool? I know about Morgana's serving girl. I know you have feelings for her." Uther didn't blink as he delivered these blows.

"Any feelings I had for her were the result of an enchantment, which was lifted. You know that," Arthur said as steadily as he could.

"You lie." Uther's voice was deadly calm.

"Father--" Arthur didn't know what he wanted to say. To deny it and lie bald faced about his feelings for Gwen, which he was frankly sick of doing? Admit the truth and cause Gwen to be banished again? There were no good choices here.

"Your paramour will face questioning just as any other unmarried woman," said Uther. "If she is innocent, she has nothing to fear."

Now Arthur was angry. "She _is_ innocent. But you are obviously on a witch hunt. And given what you believe about my feelings for her, I cannot be certain that her innocence will be fairly judged."

"You doubt the council's ability to be fair?"

"I doubt yours." It was a bold, even stupid, thing to say. But Arthur could not help it. This insane proclamation was obviously targeted toward Gwen. His father had somehow realized that Arthur's feelings for her were real and not the result of an enchantment, and this was his way of destroying them once and for all.

Instead of becoming angry, Uther merely inclined his head. "I understand how you must feel. You care for the girl--"

"I am not indignant on the behalf of one woman, but all the women you are subjecting to this unnecessary and illogical inquisition!" Arthur shouted.

"We are in the midst of a war, Arthur, and every day that passes our defenses grow weaker while our enemy grows stronger. Magic is our enemy, and I mean to deal it a killing blow. You may think it extreme. You may disagree with my methods. But one day you will be king and you will have to make difficult, but necessary, decisions as I have had to do."

The worst part of all this, Arthur thought through his red haze of rage, was that Uther looked utterly satisfied by his decision. At peace, even. It was obvious that he'd made up his mind and nothing was going to change it. His first instinct was to announce that if Uther was bound and determined to follow this course, then he would marry Gwen. But he forced himself to calm down, just a little, so he could let rationality take hold. He could not offer to do such a thing. Uther would oppose the very idea and it would put Gwen in even more danger than she was already in.

There was only one solution, at least for the near term. His father had left him with no other choice. But he needed help to put the plan into action. He needed Merlin.

Uther took Arthur's silence for acquiescence. He placed fatherly hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I know it's difficult, but one day, you'll see that I was right."

Arthur turned his head away so that Uther could not see the rage he knew he couldn't keep off his face. "Yes, Father," he replied, keeping his voice at a normal volume, with effort.

Uther patted his son's cheek fondly, then released him.

Arthur forced himself to meet Uther's gaze and give a slight nod. He forced himself to turn and walk out of the room at a normal, unhurried pace. He even forced himself to acknowledge the two guards standing outside the room at their posts.

But he could not force himself not to slam the throne room's doors shut.

~*~

"Merlin, wake up."

"I already cleaned it," Merlin mumbled, then sat straight up in bed, startled by the presence in his room. Gaius watched him with an amused expression. "Sorry, what?"

"I was just waking you," Gaius said. "I need you to travel into town and fetch me some supplies. I've left you a list on the table. I'll be making my rounds this morning. Do please hurry so the merchants don't run out of anything."

And while he would rather be sleeping, Merlin knew he owed Gaius more than a few early morning errands could ever repay, so he dressed with sleepy clumsiness and stared longingly at his nice, warm bed. The cold air outside did wonders to wake him up and Merlin was soon setting out to the market exchange, outside the palace walls, where most of Gaius's more unusual ingredients could be procured.

The market was bustling, vendors displaying their wares with loud cries and the occasional unwelcome grope. Merlin made his way the usual route, gathering all the ingredients Gaius needed in less than an hour. He was about to make his way back to the palace when something caught his eye. Something... feathery?

"Filthy things," the woman selling pickled meat commented beside him. "Supposedly birds, but give me a chicken any day. And the price they're asking for one? Barely any meat on their bones, is there?"

"Ah, yes. They may be on the slight side and look rather gangly, but we know looks can be deceiving, don't we, Merlin?"

A grin broke out on Merlin's face and he spun around to regard a man partially concealed behind a thick, rough-looking cloak.

"Gwaine!"

"Not so loud," Gwaine hissed, looking around furtively as he accepted the manly embrace of welcome Merlin offered. "Come on, you'll never believe who I ran into on my travels."

Gwaine led him to a small tent next to a pen where the tall, gangly birds resided. "What are they?" Merlin asked with barely concealed delight.

"Ostriches," a familiar voice answered from inside the tent. "A most loyal and fetching bird."

"Lancelot!" Merlin looked between the two men. "Is this some sort of reunion? Are we all in terrible danger?"

"No," Gwaine said, waving off Merlin's concern. "It's just a business venture between two weary travelers who happen to each hold the distinction of having been too amazing for the great Uther Pendragon to bear. We decided we'd rather be working toward building something instead of fighting against everything; even if what we're building stinks of bird shit."

"Lots of bird shit," Lancelot confided. "But it's an honest living."

"What do they... do?" Merlin asked.

"What _don't_ they do?" Gwaine replied. "You can race them, eat them, keep them as pets to scare away intruders -- I mean, really, would you try to rob someone who had one of those ugly buggers tied out front?"

"Fair point," Merlin conceded with a laugh.

Lancelot cleared his throat. "So, everyone is... well?"

Merlin thought that 'everyone' probably meant Gwen, so he said, "Everyone is well," even though there were pages and pages he could have gone on about Morgana and Morgause and the threat they posed. Lancelot seemed pretty happy selling ostriches with Gwaine, though, and Merlin thought it best not to worry him with things he was expressly forbidden to do anything about.

Also, if he knew Camelot was in danger, he was likely to go charging in to defend it, damn the consequences, and Merlin had enough of that nonsense to deal with where Arthur was concerned.

They exchanged a few more friendly words and Merlin promised to come back for a longer visit before they departed, and on an occasion when he did not have pressing deliveries for Gaius. He set off back to the palace and had not made it more than a few feet inside its walls before he saw Arthur barreling toward him, an angry, defiant look on his face.

"This won't go well," Merlin muttered to himself.

"Merlin."

Yikes. Arthur had that tone in his voice Merlin absolutely hated, the one that usually preceded some sort of completely disgusting task that no one ought to be forced into doing, least of all the person who saved the Crown Prince's life on an almost daily basis. _Not that anyone actually knew about that._

"Yes, sire?" Merlin asked cheerfully.

"We must speak," Arthur said. His eyes were serious, heavy lidded. "Meet me at Guinevere's home as soon as possible."

"Why are we going there?"

Arthur swallowed and looked like he was going to be sick. "My father has made a proclamation. Guinevere is to be married at once, or face immediate execution."

Merlin's face split into an enormous grin. "A bit extreme, I'll grant you, but good news in the end, eh? Congratulations!"

Glaring, Arthur punched Merlin nonetoolightly on the shoulder. "She isn't allowed to marry me, you jibbering idiot. I have a plan, but we cannot discuss it here. My father would try to stop me if he knew what I was thinking."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you never do," Arthur agreed, before turning on his heel to stalk away like a very sulky little prince. "Merlin. As soon as possible," he called back, not bothering to turn around.

"As soon as possible," Merlin mimicked once he was positive Arthur was out of earshot.

"Merlin!"

 _Fuck!_ "Ears like a bat," he muttered, before turning to make his way down to Gwen's house.

~*~

"The answer is obvious," Arthur said, pacing with an air of impatience, after having explained the situation to his audience of two.

Merlin, leaning against the wardrobe, exchanged looks with Gwen. She was ashen faced, and if she hadn't already been seated at the table, Merlin suspected she would have needed a chair. Well if she wasn't going to say it, he would. "It is?"

"Of course it is," Arthur snapped. "Guinevere and I will leave Camelot, as I intended before. I've led my father to believe that I am going along with this proclamation of his -- I don't want to chance that he'll have guards dogging my heels. I'm not even going back to the castle. Merlin, you'll have to get my things for me -- pack lightly, and make sure no one sees you. I'll arrange for transportation in town. Guinevere, take only what you need. We may be on the road some time, and --"

"I'm not leaving Camelot."

This stopped Arthur's orders in their tracks. "Guinevere. We're leaving. It's the only solution."

Gwen's voice was quiet but firm. "I've told you, Arthur. I cannot let you give up the throne for me. Your people need you, now more than ever, with Morgana--"

Arthur's jaw clenched at the mention of the woman he'd loved like a sister, who had betrayed them all. "We're not leaving forever." He took a seat at the table with Gwen and took one of her hands in his. "We'll come back one day."

"When your father is dead, you mean?" Gwen said baldly. "He is your _father_ , Arthur. And even if you were prepared to make that sacrifice, and never see or speak to him again, what would Camelot think of a prince who had left them for... five... ten... who knows how many years, then returned one day expecting to rule the kingdom? They want and deserve a king they love and respect. If you leave, Arthur, you won't be that."

"Then we won't return," Arthur said steadily, never looking away from Gwen's face. Merlin felt rather awkward to be witness to an obviously intimate discussion. "We'll live out our lives as a farmer and his wife."

"I wish it were that simple, but it's not. You're Prince Arthur, and Camelot needs you," Gwen said miserably, taking her hand from his and looking away, tears falling from her eyes. "One day you will be a great king, and I would never want to be the cause of that not coming true."

"Guinevere," Arthur said, and this time his voice was less steady. His eyes were starting to look a bit red and watery as well. Merlin cleared his throat softly and wondered if he could slip out the door without either of them noticing. "We can't be naive. You know my father has come up with this mad scheme because I'm terrible at hiding how I feel for you, and he means to solve the problem once and for all. He will _kill_ you. And I will die before I let that happen."

"Then I'll leave."

" _No._ If I have to stay, I could not bear it if you were gone." Arthur's empty hand clenched into a fist on the table. He looked as though he wanted to grab Gwen, as if she were going to disappear right in front of his eyes.

"Arthur, there's no other solution," Gwen said in despair.

"Actually..." Arthur and Gwen both started and turned to Merlin when he spoke, as if they'd forgotten he was in the room. Which they probably had. "That's not exactly true."

"What is it, Merlin, don't keep us in suspense," said Arthur, not sounding convinced that Merlin would have a solution at all.

"Er... well, the thing is... I need to make sure... well. Sorry. I'll be right back," Merlin said, dashing out the door.

A little suspense wouldn't kill them.

~*~

"Arthur, please stop pacing, you're making me anxious," Gwen implored. Not that she would be considerably less anxious if he stopped, but she didn't want him to think she was worried (though she was), and anyway she was getting a bit dizzy watching him do it.

He sat down at the table with her, his expression sullen. "What is taking him so long? Maybe we should just leave."

"Stop it," she admonished, getting up to fill their cups with more water. Frankly she could use something a little stronger than water, but the sight of her drinking a jugful of wine would probably make Arthur more determined than ever to pursue his plan of the two of them leaving Camelot.

She'd just put the pitcher back when the door opened, letting in a small gust of wind, Merlin, and two modestly garbed men who seemed strangely familiar.

"Lancelot," she said in surprise, just as Arthur said, "Gwaine!"

"And I thought my disguise was fairly decent," Gwaine grumbled.

Merlin grinned. "Saw the two of them in town earlier and thought they might be able to help."

Arthur was greeting both men, though one with less enthusiasm than the other, while Gwen was starting to get a bad feeling. "Merlin--" she began, going to stand next to him.

"Yes, Gwen?" He sounded forcefully cheerful.

"Is your plan that I should leave Camelot with Gwaine and Lancelot?"

"Not... exactly."

"I was afraid of that. I don't think Arthur's going to like this plan."

Merlin looked down at her with serious eyes. "He doesn't really have a choice, does he?"

Gwen didn't answer. The greetings were over and everyone took a seat but Arthur and Merlin, who explained his plan. "It's simple, really. Gwen needs a temporary husband while Arthur works to help the King see reason about the lack of correlation between an unmarried woman and sorcery. Lancelot, being the one who's not actually banished from Camelot, has volunteered to play the part of Gwen's husband, and Gwaine has agreed to perform the ceremony."

There was a moment of silence. Gwen met Lancelot's gaze. "I can't ask you to do this," she said.

"This is total madness," Arthur announced. "I should have known, Merlin. Only you would come up with a harebrained scheme like this--"

Everyone erupted in argument all at once. It was Gwaine who was finally heard above the din. "I think what we all want is to keep Gwen's pretty little head on her shoulders where it belongs, so if anyone has a better suggestion, let's hear it."

No one spoke.

"It's not forever--" Merlin said.

"If I can't change my father's mind it might as well be," Arthur said bitterly.

"Then you'd better change his mind," said Gwaine.

"This is too much to ask of Lancelot," said Gwen, shaking her head. "If Arthur cannot make the King see reason, he could be stuck in this situation for years."

"I gladly give my life in service to Prince Arthur and Camelot," said Lancelot, though his gaze never left Gwen's.

"Guinevere's right," Arthur said abruptly. "We can't ask this of you."

"You didn't ask," said Lancelot. "I offered."

Gwen felt incredibly grateful to him for making such a selfless sacrifice for her and Arthur, but she couldn't help but feel that he was perhaps doing it for the wrong reasons. When they last parted, she had told him things, things that had come from her heart but also the heightened emotions under which she'd been operating due to circumstance. Things were different now, different with Arthur, and different with her. He should have all the information before making a decision like this. "I'd like to speak with Lancelot alone," she said. Arthur shot her a significant look, which she forced herself to pretend not to see. "If after we've spoken, he still agrees to do this, we'll move forward."

Gwaine nodded. "Arthur, when is your father making this proclamation?"

"It's probably too late in the day at this point," Arthur said, now not looking at any of them. "I'd say most likely first thing tomorrow morning."

"I leave for Mercia on the morrow, so I can perform the false ceremony this afternoon," said Gwaine. "I have to admit, I've always wanted to pretend to be a priest." Everyone laughed wanly. "Merlin, you'll take care of the witnesses and marriage record?"

Merlin nodded. "Consider it done."

"You two," Gwaine said, gesturing between Lancelot and Gwen. "Find some wedding garb."

Gwen stood and went to Arthur. She could tell he was upset. But surely he had to see that this was a good solution. This way she could stay in Camelot, he wouldn't have to give up the throne, and if he could convince Uther to rescind the proclamation, things could go back to the way they had been, with little disruption. Of course, if he couldn't... well, if she couldn't marry Arthur, it made no difference to her who the world thought she was married to. The person whose life would be affected the most was actually Lancelot, which was why she had to be sure he knew what he was sacrificing. She touched Arthur's arm, which was corded and tense. "Arthur?"

"You'd really rather do this than leave Camelot with me?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes full of hurt.

"I'm doing this _for_ you, and for Camelot, which we both love so dear," Gwen responded. "I know it doesn't feel that way right now. But Arthur, I'm also doing this because I am hoping for the best thing of all, that you will be able to change your father's mind and we will be able to go on as we have."

Looking at him, Gwen had to marvel again how genuinely he seemed to care for her. Despite everything, it was at times hard to believe that someone like him loved someone like her; hard to believe he meant all the beautiful, sweet things he told her, even if he thought he did. He was going to be the King of Camelot one day and she was a _maid_. She wondered sometimes if he fully realized the implications of what that meant, or if he was too blinded by physical attraction to see it. She of course wanted to believe their love was more than that, that _she_ meant more, but still it was sometimes as though she were dreaming a wonderful, foolish dream.

Arthur took her hand and placed a hard kiss on it, the only thing he would allow himself to do in front of an audience. "Talk to Lancelot," he said. "I will accept whatever decision you make."

Any answer she might have made was lost in her throat as he turned, nodded to Lancelot, then swiftly departed, his eyes strangely bright.

~*~

He'd thought perhaps time and memory had exaggerated her beauty. Maybe he'd only hoped it. Whatever the case, he'd been wrong. Gwen was just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more so. She was dressed more plainly than when he'd last seen her, but her simplicity had partially been what had attracted him to her in the first place. She wasn't a diamond, obvious and ostentatious in its beauty; she was a flower on the side of the road, unexpected, giving color to an otherwise drab landscape, yet easily overlooked by impatient travelers.

Lancelot was not an impatient traveler. He had a lot of patience. It was what made him a good swordsman. It was what made Arthur a good swordsman, too, but the Prince of Camelot seemed to lack patience in many other respects. Studying Gwen, who looked as though she had no idea how to start now that she'd gotten him out here in her small little garden with her, Lancelot had to amend the thought. It seemed Arthur Pendragon was also capable of exercising patience in matters of love.

"How are you?" was Gwen's opening salvo. "You look well."

Lancelot smiled. He would make small talk with her if that would set her at ease, even though it was wholly unnecessary. He felt as comfortable with her now as the day they'd met. "I am well. You look well yourself. Indeed, you have not changed at all since last we met, my lady."

"I'm not a lady," she objected at once, clasping her hands and wringing them slightly. "But never mind that." She bit her lip. "Lancelot--"

"I know what you're going to say," he said.

"No, you don't." Gwen held out her clasped hands to him, as if imploring. "When I last saw you, I said some things..."

Lancelot inclined his head. "You want to tell me that you're in love with Arthur and that things have changed since you said those things to me while trapped in a cell awaiting your death sentence."

She looked at him doe eyed, her mouth slightly open. "No," she said stubbornly, then relaxed into a wry, slightly relieved half smile. "All right, yes. Something like that. How did you know?"

"About you and Arthur? I'm afraid it's pretty obvious. It was obvious then, too."

"Is that why you left?" It sounded as though it were a question she had wanted the answer to for some time.

"Partly, yes," Lancelot acknowledged. "But also because I wasn't good enough for you then. I'm still not good enough for you." He grinned. "But you need me, and I can help, so here we are."

"Oh, Lancelot, if anything, you are _too_ good for me," Gwen said, looking miserable. She chewed her lip. "Lancelot... I'm sorry." He knew she meant for more than just the circumstance of their failed romance.

"I am, too," he said. "It doesn't change how I feel about you." Lancelot had decided that he could do nothing less than be completely open with her. She deserved to know how he truly felt, and it was perhaps the only way to convince her that he was going into this with his eyes wide open.

Gwen colored and shook her head. "This is why I can't allow you to make this sacrifice for me -- for us. It's not fair."

Lancelot shrugged. He hadn't had a bath in several days and probably stank of ostrich shit. To her credit, Gwen didn't seem to notice at all. It was one of the things that was so easy to love about her. "What's fair? Life is life. None of us choose who we love. There will never be another for me but you. Should I live to be a hundred no other woman will turn my head. So what difference does it make if I tie myself to you now, whether it be a real or false union?"

Gwen turned away, her hands on her cheeks. "Please don't say these things."

"I'm only telling you the truth. You needn't feel that you are somehow robbing me of something. If anything the excuse to be by your side is more than payment enough. Or if you'd prefer I wasn't, it's easy enough to concoct a story that your husband is a traveling merchant. I need not stay in Camelot very long, only to keep up appearances."

Gwen was shaking her head. "You'd be giving up your life, your freedom. For nothing. For a _story_. Another woman may take your fancy one day and you should have every right to pursue her. You don't understand. It is not certain that Arthur will be able to convince the King that his latest plans are madness, clearly devised to keep me and his son apart. It could be years, decades, before he passes and Arthur can change the law. That is too much to ask of anyone."

"I told you both in there," Lancelot replied. "You're not asking. I am offering. I say again that it is no hardship on my behalf. I would be telling a falsehood if I did not admit that part of me hopes that in time, you may come to care for me... the way you care for Arthur now. Maybe not in the same way. But no one knows what the future holds. I don't wish either of you ill, never that. In fact, were it up to me I wish you both long life and happiness together. But Gwen..." Here he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "The only thing I ask in return is that you not destroy my hopes completely." His heart was in this throat. He felt relief and elation course through him when, after a brief moment of hesitation, she nodded.

"I don't want to lie to you. My heart is with Arthur," Gwen said, her eyes moist. "But I promise you that if my heart were free, you are the only person I'd consider." She looked as though she wanted to say more, but seemed to change her mind. She looked unhappy.

Lancelot placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so their gazes could meet. "I can ask no more of you."

~*~

Thankfully, they were not actually in a church; even Gwaine did not believe himself possessed of enough gumption to impersonate a priest in God's own house. Gwen's house was small, but the dining table had been pushed far to the side and a few chairs had been set out and occupied by the small gathering of people. Guinevere wore the same thing she'd been wearing when Gwaine had seen her earlier, and Lancelot was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to feed the ostriches that morning.

It would have been romantic, the idea of them wanting to get married, and damn the ceremony, had everyone present not been so bloody unhappy. Everyone was seated, and since Gwaine had his marching orders, he simply began as soon as Lancelot and Gwen stood before him.

"Dearly beloved -- sort of -- we are gathered here today in the presence of witnesses -- some of them hostile -- to marry this man to this woman -- so that this woman is not burned at the stake."

"Just get on with it," Arthur urged through clenched teeth.

Gwen looked miserable, Merlin looked contemplative, Arthur looked angry, and Lancelot looked tortured. Gwaine was far more amused by the proceedings than he ought to have been, but _come on_ \-- it was plain as day that Arthur and Gwen were mad for each other, and the idea that the horrible, insufferable man the future king called his father was behind all this misery -- well. It took a much better man than Gwaine considered himself to be to not find the entire situation amusing.

He also wondered if Arthur would still be as keen about defending verbal slurs hurled against his old man and sovereign king right about now just as Gwaine said the words "man and wife."

"This is a genuinely peculiar wedding," one of Merlin's "guests" commented. Gwaine held in a laugh at great personal cost. Trust the boy to do as he'd told him.

The woman was at least ninety, half blind, and deaf in both ears, and she was obviously the more highly functioning of the pair; her husband made the most distracting hacking sound every few moments for no apparent reason, and always asked her, loudly, what she had just said to him, only silencing when she hit him. They would do well as the witnesses to the wedding Arthur would present if his father demanded proof of Gwen's marriage.

"Um... Reverend?" Guinevere prompted, eyeing the man-of-the-cloth garb Gwaine had procured for the occasion.

"Of course," Gwaine said, smiling broadly. "Let us dispense with the formalities. Do you, Guinevere, promise that you will love Lancelot, honor and obey him, and forsaking all others, be faithful--" Gwaine sent Arthur a knowing look the prince returned with a glare, "--only to him until death parts you?"

"I do," Gwen agreed, looking more like she was agreeing to her own funeral. She spared an apologetic smile toward her groom.

"And you," Gwaine said, nodding Lancelot's way. "Same bits."

The old gentleman made a sound like a cat with a wool blanket in its throat, then quieted.

Lancelot looked startled at the noise, as well as the abruptness of the question, but Gwaine privately thought putting him through the actual words seemed a little crueler and, as they'd grown close over the past few months, Gwaine felt bad about bringing harm to one of the most genuinely good people he'd ever known.

"I do," Lancelot said quietly. Before Gwaine could move things along, his partner added, a little louder, "I vow to be at my lady's service until death takes me from her."

There was silence over the proceedings for a moment. Merlin broke it with an exceptionally loud and overdone throat clearing he'd clearly learned from his seat mate. Arthur couldn't make up his mind who to glare at, and Guinevere looked positively distraught.

"My word, is that angry young man the Crown Prince?" the old woman asked Merlin loudly.

"What was that?" her husband asked loudly. "Mince meat? Where?"

The old woman slapped him on the arm and Gwaine quickly moved to bring the farce to a close.

"By the not entirely real power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Lancelot did, quickly and chastely, the two of them looking extremely awkward as they were both hyper aware of their audience.

"So romantic," the old woman commented. Arthur handed her husband a handkerchief to pass her way. She smiled, teary eyed, at both of them.

"Well, I hate to wed and run, but there's this inconvenient banishment business," Gwaine said.

"Wait," Merlin said, standing. "You must sign the official record."

"Right." Gwaine nodded and signed a false name with a flourish. Merlin handed a quill to the older couple, and after an exhaustive process that involved explaining to them what they were signing at least three times, it was done. Everyone was miserable, but they were alive, and that was a start.

"Thank you," Guinevere said, smiling at Gwaine with a tight, sad expression.

"I'd say you're welcome..." They shared a smile as he turned to leave. "Good luck and God bless to you all."

Arthur glared at him -- as if the idea had taken root that this whole muddled affair was somehow _Gwaine's_ fault for being the one to technically marry the two of them. _Look a little closer to home before you start throwing stones, Majesty._

Ah, well. It would all turn out right in the end. Merlin had seemed convinced this was the best way to play things for now, and Gwaine had learned that there was a great deal more to Merlin than met the eye. He'd take good care of Arthur and Gwen. Then, after Lancelot got his little heart broken again, Gwaine would buy him a pint and agree that all the beautiful, perfect women in the world were taken, and they'd find someone else to buy an ostrich.

Such was life.

~*~

The knock at the door came just as Gwen was coming in from the back after having taken down her freshly laundered clothing. The basket was heavy and nearly overflowing with several weeks' worth of laundry, including sheets. The problem with being responsible for much of the castle's laundry was that she rarely had time to do her own.

"Just a second," she called, setting the basket down onto the bed. It was probably Lancelot, who had said he needed to take care of some business in town. She calmed her thumping heart. She was hoping that whatever he had to do would take awhile, so she would have time to consider what she wanted to say to him, how she should behave. What she could say that could properly convey her gratitude for the sacrifice he was making, yet reiterate, gently, that things had changed since the last time they'd seen one another. She was concerned that he hadn't quite seemed to understand when they'd talked earlier. "That was quicker than I thought," she said, putting on a smile and opening the door.

It wasn't Lancelot. The man who stood at the door was fairer, though the scowl on his face was dark.

"Arthur," she said in surprise, her smile dropping. "Is something wrong?"

"Other than that you're married to someone else? No. Nothing." He entered, looking red eyed and agitated. He looked how she felt. "Lancelot here?"

"No. And I'm not really married," she gently reminded him, shutting the door.

"I know." His hair looked even more unkempt than usual, as if he'd been running his fingers through it. "Won't you change your mind? We could just pack a few things, have Merlin saddle up two horses, and go." Arthur didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He kept picking things up and putting them down again.

"Arthur, we've discussed this," Gwen said hollowly. "You cannot leave. I won't be the reason Camelot loses you as its king."

He swore, and Gwen hurried over to take a plate from his hands, fearing he would break it in two. "Or maybe my crown is all you really care about."

Gwen's open palm swung in an arc before she even knew what she was doing. It connected with Arthur's perfect cheekbone with a satisfying crack. He reached up with tentative fingers to touch his reddening skin, an incredulous look on his face. "You deserved that," she said, spinning around to continue folding the laundry, or clearing the table, or anything but look at him. She was still angry with him, but was also mortified at having actually hit him.

She'd only just picked up a sleeve on a dress when Arthur grabbed her arms in his hands and spun her around, backing her up to a wall. "Don't manhandle me!" she said angrily, struggling in his grasp. It was no use. He only grabbed her wrists and pinned them up against the wall with hands that were like manacles.

"All right," Arthur said. "Maybe I did deserve that. But I can't help it! I say stupid things when I'm afraid, and everything I want is out of my reach and I'm powerless!"

"Afraid?" Gwen repeated.

"Yes, _afraid_ ," Arthur bit out, obviously hating to admit such a thing. "It's you -- and Lancelot -- I know how you feel for one another --"

"Oh," Gwen said, realization dawning. Why had she failed to see this? Maybe because Arthur was usually so confident, arrogant even, that it hadn't occurred to her that he would feel threatened by Lancelot. "You're jealous?" It came out as a question because she still didn't really believe it.

"Of course I'm bloody jealous," he said raggedly. "Whatever the ruse, the world thinks you belong to him now. He claimed you as his in front of everyone."

"No man has claimed me," Gwen said quietly, both to ease his jealousy about Lancelot, and to remind him that for all his promises, she had no true guarantee of his intentions, either.

"You're wrong," Arthur said, then kissed her where she stood, the searing heat of his mouth turning her knees to liquid. He kissed her as if he were a drowning man and she was the last sip of water on Earth. He didn't let up even when she started moaning. His tongue tangled with hers and his teeth were nipping her lips, and the kiss was messy and wet and desperate. She felt all the love he had for her in his kiss, and luckily he was still holding her wrists against the wall or she might have slid right down at this riotous assault on her senses.

The kiss went on and on and seemed to last no time at all; then his lips were on her throat and her hands were in his hair and she was fumbling with the fasteners on his breeches while his hands were on her naked thighs. Then somehow Arthur was right there between them, pressing her up against the wall, and she had to wrap her arms around him and hang on for dear life as he thrust into her without any further preliminaries, his strokes hard and fast and exactly what she wanted.

Gwen gasped in his ear and held him tight, trying to draw the pleasure out, wanting it to last, but it was too good and they were both too ready; within moments she was crying out as she reached her pinnacle, and soon after, he followed, his long, deep groan like music in her ears.

~*~

After Gwen and Lancelot's theatrical marriage ceremony, Merlin had accompanied Arthur back to the castle. The Prince had been understandably subdued, and Merlin didn't think any attempts to make light of the situation would be well received. Contrary to Arthur's personal beliefs, Merlin didn't actually try to deliberately annoy him.

Once at the castle doors, however, Arthur had stopped suddenly. Merlin had stopped with him.

"You go on," Arthur had said. "I need some time to myself." With that, he'd headed back toward the direction of Gwen's house, which had come as no surprise to Merlin.

Merlin himself had continued toward the record keeper's chamber, handing the old man Gwen and Lancelot's signed marriage papers for the public registry. The record keeper had peered at the parchment as though trying to reveal it as a fake (for some reason he had never liked Merlin very much), but after awhile had grudgingly accepted it to be real. If only he knew, Merlin chuckled to himself. It had been some of his finest conjuring work to date. Alas, no one was able to appreciate it but him. If Uther were to check, Gwen's marriage would be perfectly in order, filed away neatly before the influx of marriages that were certain to happen tomorrow once the decree was made.

If you asked Merlin, which no one ever did, but he liked to have an answer ready in his head in case someone did ever ask him his opinion, Uther was getting madder by the minute. Unmarried women were more prone to sorcery than married women? Ludicrous. It was either a completely transparent attempt to once again keep Gwen and Arthur apart -- which would not surprise Merlin in the least -- or Uther truly believed such nonsense, which would not be atypical of him, but which only further proved that he was unfit for the throne he occupied.

After submitting Gwen and Lancelot's marriage papers, Merlin headed toward the dining room, where he was scheduled to help serve the midday meal.

"Where is my son?" Uther asked, when the food dishes began to arrive and Arthur still had not shown up.

"I don't know, sire," answered Merlin, though he had a pretty good inkling. But his motto had never been that honesty was the best policy. He generally shared information on a need to know basis.

Uther grunted, then gestured with an imperious finger toward his wine goblet, indicating that he wanted it filled.

Merlin stepped forward, pitcher at the ready, when he noticed a ring on Uther's finger that he'd never seen before. It was a bit garish and feminine for Uther's taste, he would have thought, as it bore the insignia of a dragonfly. An immediate suspicion began to form in Merlin's mind. He'd been through this enough times now not to be dismissive of new pieces of jewelry suddenly being worn by Uther or his son.

He couldn't say anything to the King outright, of course, but as soon as the midday meal was done Merlin made his way back to his quarters, hoping to catch Gaius before he left on his afternoon rounds.

Gaius was just closing his medicine bag when Merlin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Merlin, what is it?" the older man asked, correctly reading Merlin's expression.

Merlin had already told Gaius about the proclamation regarding unmarried women. Gaius had been as disbelieving as the rest of them, and while he hadn't exactly approved of the fake marriage plan for Gwen, he'd agreed that they had few viable options." Uther's wearing a new ring. It has a dragonfly on it. Have you seen it before?"

Gaius's brow creased. "A dragonfly?" he said in surprise. "No, I can't say that I have. But that doesn't necessarily mean--"

"I know," said Merlin, getting closer to Gaius so that he could lower his voice and still be heard. "But doesn't it seem strange that he would make such an outlandish proclamation and at the same time start wearing a piece of jewelry no one's ever seen before? If that ring is enchanted -- and it's what's causing Uther to be even more irrational than usual --"

"Then we have a chance to reverse what's going on," Gaius finished slowly. "I agree you should look into it. You should probably ask Arthur if he recognizes the ring."

Merlin nodded. He was certain he was right. He was getting that feeling of glee he got whenever he managed to suss out the truth of a situation.

"But Merlin, who would do such a thing? Who do you think is responsible?" Gaius asked, looking concerned.

"Oh, that part's easy," said Merlin grimly.

Morgana.

~*~

Arthur pressed his face deeply into the crook of Gwen's neck. Her body was still heaving, their partially clothed bodies pressed tightly together. This was where he always wished to be. He was a complete arse for the things he'd said, for the savage way he'd taken her -- against a _wall_ for God's sake -- but he could not find the energy to fully regret it. Not when her breath was hot in his ear; not when he could still count the beats of her heart where it thumped against her breast and his. The air was intense with what they'd so recently shared together, and Arthur sought to lighten the mood. He would have to leave her soon and he wanted to do so on good terms.

"Well," he murmured softly, "this wasn't exactly as I've always envisioned your wedding night, but I suppose it'll have to do."

The last thing he expected his comment to prompt was the total stiffening of her body, immediately followed by her shockingly strong hands pushing him bodily away. The look of horror on her beautiful face completed the unexpected package.

"You must go at once," Guinevere said, quickly righting her clothing with shaking hands.

Arthur moved much slower, doing up the laces on his breeches, the skewed ties on his shirt. "I realize we cannot be seen together, Guinevere."

"It's not that," she said, fluttering her fingers ineffectually over her dress; it was a wrinkled mess, her hair much worse. Anyone who saw her would have absolutely no trouble guessing exactly what she'd been up to.

A knot began growing in Arthur's gut. "Just what exactly is it, then?"

"Do you not see how incredibly inappropriate it would be for Lancelot to find us like this?" She indicated the space between them.

"You're worried about Lancelot," he said in a slow, measured tone. It almost felt like he was going mad, except if he were, he suspected it wouldn't hurt quite this much.

"Of course I am," she exclaimed. "You should be as well! He's... he's sacrificing so much for us, Arthur."

Her expression was torn and Arthur felt her indecision twist into him like a knife. "Then I should go," he said shortly.

Guinevere's expression flickered, and he almost thought she was going to say something, when the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew closer to the front door. Of course, Lancelot would be returning home to claim his apparently adoring bride. Arthur hid behind the curtain, listened as Gwen made some sort of excuse as to why she needed Lancelot to walk with her around back.

It was easy to leave undetected. It was the only thing about this entire situation that was.

~*~

Merlin found Arthur in a very bad mood. His clothes didn't even look put on properly. He was apparently literally unable to dress himself without Merlin's assistance. Shocking that he would one day be responsible for an entire kingdom. Merlin had never been more aware of the immense burden placed upon his own shoulders, tasked as he was with looking after Arthur for the rest of their lives.

He was almost hesitant to ask Arthur about the ring he'd noticed Uther wearing, but his suspicions that something dark and magical was afoot took precedence over the temper tantrum Arthur had taken to his chambers to indulge in. Merlin steeled his spine and loudly cleared his throat.

Arthur glanced toward him with an annoyed grimace. "If you're getting sick, stay away from me."

"I'm not getting -- never mind." _I will take the high road._ "Have you noticed anything strange about your father?"

Now, Arthur looked downright murderous. "You mean _other_ than his sudden and inexplicable proclamation that every unmarried woman immediately take a husband or find herself burned at the stake?"

"Yes," Merlin agreed."Other than that."

"No. No, other than that he seems perfectly normal." Arthur looked disgusted with him.

"It's just that..."

" _What?_ "

"Well, have you noticed the ring he's been wearing?" Merlin asked suddenly. At Arthur's confused look, he continued, "It's rather... delicate. Not his usual style. Has a dragonfly on it."

The confusion lifted from Arthur's face. "That sounds like... it was my mother's. One of her favorites. He showed me and Morgana her collection once, explained why they were..." Arthur trailed off, looking pained. Talk of Morgana did that to him these days. Add memories he didn't have of his mother to the pot and Merlin realized the prince's temper tantrum was about to evolve into a day-long brood. This business with Gwen could push it into a week.

"Well. Good he's remembering the past fondly then. Right. I've got things to do."

"Such as?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"Muck out your stables," Merlin said, naming his least favorite task. Arthur would let it go easily if he thought Merlin was going to be suffering as much as he was.

"Hmm," Arthur said, as if he didn't believe him, but then he sighed and stared out the window. "A piece of advice, Merlin -- don't fall in love, if you can avoid it."

Merlin frowned. "Is it really that awful?"

Arthur smiled, but it was a sad expression. "No. It's the greatest feeling in the world." The smile turned wry. "That's the trouble though, isn't it? When you feel the greatest you've ever felt, there's nowhere left to go but down."

Merlin left Arthur feeling more troubled than he ought to. Arthur was usually such a spoilt prat that Merlin found the moments when the prince showed how truly wise, vulnerable, and... well, great he could be, to be somewhat unsettling. It reminded him that Arthur would grow out of all this, and perhaps not need Merlin quite so much at all.

Gaius was preparing a tincture of something that smelled terrible all the way from the front door.

"You're back early," he noted as Merlin walked inside.

"The king has been enchanted," Merlin said without preamble.

"Again?" Gaius said irritably.

~*~

Gaius worried about Merlin more than he let on. The boy took the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Gaius worried sometimes that they would crumble under its strain. He'd been so naïve, so foolish when Gaius had first met him, that he'd feared the worst. No one so careless, so effortless with his magic, would be able to survive long in Uther's kingdom without some skills of cunning and prevarication, yet Merlin had managed to remain largely undetected and retained his good heart at the same time.

The lies he told were simple yet effective, and Gaius admired the way he avoided them whenever possible. The habit of lying to everyone could easily turn an otherwise good person to a life filled with deceit, but Merlin took great pains never to obfuscate things that were not critical to life and death. Though there was plenty to fault about him, his sense of honor was not one.

"I think I've got it," Merlin announced, sounding excited. They'd spent hours poring over spellbooks, and Gaius felt a pang of pride -- Merlin rarely needed him at all anymore, not for practical things like research.

"What have you found?" Gaius asked.

"It's a _forlor hagorun_ enchantment." His eyes were still scanning the page, verifying his contention that this was, indeed, the magical spell Uther had been placed under. "We need calamus root--"

"Grows abundantly in the south," Gaius said helpfully.

"As well as mallow flowers--"

"I have a supply of that right here."

"And," Merlin continued, "damania."

"Somewhat more challenging," Gaius conceded, "but I believe I know a way."

"A sword forged by a hand pure of heart, for a true purpose--"

"Gwen should be more than capable of forging something," Gaius said, beginning to feel hopeful. Perhaps this madness could be put to rest before too much damage had been done.

"The forging requires a champion to pierce the heart of a Rruhe, adding its blood to the mixture," Merlin said, sounding discouraged.

"That's not so bad," Gaius said positively. "The Rruhe are incredibly swift and strong, but we have great warriors who can help us--"

"It's not that," Merlin said, and even knowing him as well as he did, Gaius could not quite place the look on his ward's face. Sadness? Defeat? Anger? Heartbreak?

"What?" Gaius asked. "What is it?"

"It also requires the blood of the enchanter," Merlin whispered, his tortured eyes finally rising to meet Gaius's stare. They spoke one word at the same time, their voices infused with betrayal, and in Merlin's case, some degree of what sounded oddly like longing.

"Morgana."

Merlin cleared his throat. "We'll have to..."

Gaius placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I know this is hard for you..."

"She's brought it on herself, hasn't she?" Merlin forced a hardness into his voice he clearly wished was genuine. "Really, it won't even be the most difficult part."

Gaius lifted his eyebrow in question.

Merlin grimaced. "I've got to convince Arthur of all this somehow and enlist his help without mentioning magic."

~*~

Merlin often wondered what it might be like if Uther were not the King of Camelot, if it were Arthur instead. Some days it felt as though that time could not come soon enough; other days, it seemed that Arthur still had a lot to learn about simple human interaction before he'd make a truly great king. Now, for instance.

"I told you last time this tunic didn't fit right!" The offending tunic was flung none too gently toward Merlin, who failed to catch it, which caused it to drape over his head, momentarily blocking his view of an infuriated Arthur.

"I had a seamstress fix it," Merlin said mildly, pulling the tunic off his head.

But of course, this explanation did not stop Arthur's raging. "It needs washing," the other snapped, sounding every bit the spoiled prince most people assumed he was. They both knew Arthur's current bad mood was caused by something other than an ill-fitting tunic. As unfair as it was, Merlin knew Arthur partially blamed him for the fact that Gwen was now not-really-married to Lancelot. After all, it'd been Merlin's idea. Never mind that it had saved Gwen's life and bought them time. Uther had made his unreasonable decree this morning, and there was already alarm and consternation spreading in the village.

Arthur wanted to take his misery out on someone, and Merlin was sympathetic enough of Arthur and Gwen's plight that he was okay with being Arthur's flogging boy ... for now. After all, the 'wedding' had only just taken place the day before.

Still, it took a lot to rein in the desire to tell Arthur exactly what his suspicions about Uther were and how he, Merlin, was trying to fix things so that Gwen could become unmarried to Lancelot and Arthur and Gwen could once again be ... whatever they were to each other. It was bloody difficult trying to right all the wrongs in Arthur's life, with nothing to show for it but the brunt of Arthur's oft times foul temper.

"I'll get it washed," Merlin said, using this as an excuse to escape and plot out how he was going to do what he needed to break the enchantment on Uther's ring.

"You do that," Arthur replied, but the heat had gone out of his voice. Now he sounded worn down and sick at heart, and it was worse than his anger, somehow. Arthur stared out the window while Merlin gathered up various bits of clothing that needed washing, which was actually quite a lot. Arthur physically exerted himself a tremendous amount every day, and it made for a good amount of clothing that he'd sweated through.

Merlin eyed him, concerned, wondering if there was anything he could say that would ease Arthur's troubled mind and heart. The truth would probably accomplish that goal. It would be so much easier if he could simply tell Arthur what was going on -- he would obviously be just as eager to break the spell as Merlin, likely even more so, and he could be very helpful with slaying things and bloodletting. Having something to do would also help ease his misery. But just as he had dozens of times before, Merlin kept his silence.

"Is there anything else, my lord?" Merlin asked.

"No," Arthur responded without looking away from the window. "Thank you, Merlin."

 _Don't worry, I'll fix this,_ he thought, closing the door behind him. _I'll make that treacherous Morgana pay._

He bumped into Gwen in the scullery, which was bustling with maids washing dishes, linen, and clothing in giant tubs. Since Morgana had been banished from Camelot, Gwen had been asked to do more and more of this kind of work, partly out of petty envy for the elevated servant status she had enjoyed for so long as the personal maid to the King's ward, Merlin suspected, and because it would never occur to her to ask either Uther nor Arthur for different work. Gwen did not complain. Gwen did as she was asked and never tried to rise above her station. The fact that she loved Arthur was the only thing she had ever dared to do, it seemed to Merlin, that was something that was for her and only her.

"Hello, Merlin," she greeted, trying to smile normally but not really succeeding. She was up to her elbows in suds.

"How does it feel to be a married woman?" he joked gently, taking a seat beside her and rolling up his sleeves. This wasn't strictly part of his duties, but he wanted to talk to her and the scullery maids certainly wouldn't shoo him out if he was going to help with their work.

"Very funny," Gwen said, wiping her temple with the sleeve of her upper arm, which was free of soap. She lowered her voice. "I feel so guilty about Lancelot. He slept next to the stove last night. It couldn't have been comfortable. He's been so incredibly helpful and understanding."

"Gwen," Merlin said, in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice. "You know that... Lancelot has feelings for you, don't you? That he's a good man -- a very good man -- but his motives may not be completely only to help you." He stopped, hesitating. He didn't want to be unfair to Lancelot, who had never done anyone a lick of harm, but he felt that he had to say something, so that at least Arthur would not be at such a disadvantage in Gwen's eyes. "I mean--"

Gwen shot him a quick smile. "You're a good friend, Merlin. I know what you're trying to say. Lancelot himself confessed it to me."

"He did?" Obviously he'd already been unfair to Lancelot. It should not have surprised him.

"He did," Gwen confirmed, starting to vigorously scrub a shirt.

"And what did you say?" Again Merlin felt that spark of defensiveness, though he was trying his best to be objective.

"I told him that my heart belonged to someone else," she said, and he knew she was deliberately not saying Arthur's name in case anyone was listening to their conversation. He knew that she knew that he knew who she meant. "He said that he understood, but he was willing to sacrifice his life for hope." She shook her head. "It was all he asked of me."

Merlin felt frustrated on Arthur's behalf, and yet was full of admiration for Lancelot. The man knew how to speak to women, that was for certain. Gwen, possessing a kind nature, in particular wouldn't have the heart to gut him, not after all he was doing for her. Merlin didn't know what to say that wouldn't make Arthur annoyed with him later for saying, so he just pressed his lips together and nodded.

"I told him it could be years... decades." She sounded as though she were trying not to despair at the thought, but was failing.

"Oh, I don't think it will be that long," Merlin said.

Something in his voice made her stop her washing and turn to look at him sharply. "What's going on?"

Merlin leaned in close to talk softly in her ear. "I have reason to believe that Morgana is behind Uther's sudden leap of logic that unmarried women equate to sorceresses."

"Mor--" Gwen exclaimed before she could stop herself. "More soap, please," she called, biting her lip. She shot Merlin a look of apology as one of the maids came over with the requested item. "Thank you, Constance."

"I'll need your help," Merlin continued quietly, once Constance had left. "Yours and Lancelot's."

"Of course, whatever you need," Gwen said immediately. Hope shone in her eyes. "Do you think you might be able to reverse whatever she's done? And things can be ... normal again?"

"I have great hope that that is the case," Merlin said. "Gaius and I will await you in our quarters. Come as soon as your evening rounds are done. Bring Lancelot."

Gwen nodded, and they gave each other reassuring half-smiles as they went back to their washing.

~*~

"You really think he's enchanted?" Gwen couldn't hide the hope in her voice.

"Nearly positive," said Merlin. "I've seen the signs enough times to know, and this one wasn't very subtle."

"And you think Morgana's the one behind it?" Gwen didn't know how to feel about that. She changed her mind nearly every day about whether she felt more sorry for her former mistress and friend or angry.

"Who else?" Merlin said these two words lightly, but Gwen could hear the tension behind them. Not for the first time, she wondered what there was between them. Not romantically, of course, but sometimes there was something in Merlin's eyes when Morgana's name was mentioned. Then again, Gwen could just be imagining it.

"Merlin has found a way to break the enchantment," Gaius said. "We believe Uther is wearing a ring that his wife Ygraine used to wear, and it is the source of the enchantment. Destroy the source, and the enchantment should wear off, with Uther none the wiser. Hopefully that means the proclamation will be withdrawn once he comes back to his senses."

Gwen felt her heart sink at these words. That was a possibility she had not considered before now. "You mean there's a chance he won't withdraw it even if the enchantment _is_ lifted," she said hollowly. "Maybe he'll decide, since it's already in place..."

"Don't think that way," Merlin said hastily, with a reassuring smile.

"Anything is possible," said Gaius, ever the pragmatist. "But it's probably highly unlikely, Gwen."

Gwen tried to feel reassured, but it didn't quite work.

"How can we help?" Lancelot asked. His voice came from somewhere close behind Gwen, startling her. She hadn't realized he was so near. Casually, she moved away, closer to Gaius, who was consulting a book.

"We're going to need herbs. I already have most of what we need, but there are two that we'll need to get. Calamus root, which can be found abundantly further to the south, along Lake Highwater, and damania, which can be difficult to find. It tends to prefer soil that has been fertilized by unicorn droppings."

Gwen nodded. "We can get those," she said confidently. "I'll look night and day if I have to."

"I can tell you where Arthur and I found that unicorn that one time," Merlin said. "Hopefully that will at least help narrow down the terrain somewhat."

"You'll need to go alone," Gaius said. "We must also slay a Rruhe, and we'll need Lancelot's help to do that."

Lancelot nodded. "Just point me in the right direction."

"Once we have everything we need, we'll need a sword forged 'by a hand pure of heart, for a true purpose,' with the blood and with the herb mixture."

"Elyan -- my brother -- he can help us," said Gwen. "I'll go to him tonight. He'll help us forge the sword. He can get started while we're gathering what we need."

Gaius nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking," Lancelot said, "What are you going to be doing?" This was directed at Merlin.

"Uh...about that," said Merlin. "We need some other blood as well."

"What?" Gwen asked, alarmed by the hesitancy she heard in Merlin's voice. "What blood? From what?"

"Not what, who," Gaius said. "We need Morgana's blood."

"Morgana's blood!" Gwen burst out. "How is that possible?"

"Well, first I need to find her -- I know, not an easy task," said Merlin.

"And then you're just going to ask her nicely for it?" Lancelot asked wryly.

"Yes, and if that doesn't work, I have another plan." Merlin grinned.

"How can you joke about this?" Gwen asked. "It's too dangerous, Merlin. She's dangerous. She'll kill you."

"She probably could," Merlin acknowledged.

"No!" Gwen exclaimed."It's too dangerous! She's incredibly powerful, and who knows what other help she has now..."

"We don't have any other choice. It has to be me." Merlin sounded resolute, and Gwen knew that he would not be dissuaded.

"We all know what must be done," Gaius said. "Godspeed."

~*~

Merlin was angry. It felt odd to him. He wasn't comfortable with anger, so far as emotions went. It made him feel out of sorts, like his skin wasn't his anymore. He would much prefer to be sad than angry, but since he was rarely given a choice about which emotions he was allowed to feel, it was with a great howl of rage that he stood in the quiet, open clearing and called for the Great Dragon.

An amazing gust of wind stirred around Merlin as the dragon landed, his enormous body sending a tinge of latent fear through the young wizard, as it always did, in spite of the fact that Merlin knew for certain the dragon would not -- could not -- harm him.

"You call again so soon, young warlock," the Dragon noted. "What have you come to ask of me now?"

"Morgana has placed an enchantment on Uther," Merlin said, and the anger -- the betrayal -- stabbed again, hot against his breast. She should know better than this. She should be better than this. It had injured him gravely when he realized he had to end her life to save Camelot, and he had been guiltily relieved when Morgause arrived in time to spare her. But the betrayal he felt, as a fellow sorcerer, as a former friend who had trusted and loved her with the truest of hearts, would not be cooled.

"This I see," the Dragon replied. "A most ingenious method to destroy Arthur's future."

"You sound proud of her," Merlin said, annoyed.

"I can appreciate the skill and cunning of one I have no concern with," the Dragon said. "I told you to end her life long ago. You alone are responsible for the path we are on now."

"It just proves that the things you see aren't written in stone," Merlin insisted. "We can change them."

"You still want to save her," the Dragon mused. "Even now. Your dedication to a rigid ideology is somewhat commendable."

Save her. Cut into her and harvest her blood. Merlin thought that perhaps there would end up being a fine line between the two.

"I need to find her," Merlin said. "Show me where she is."

The Dragon looked at Merlin gravely. "I give you one piece of advice, warlock, and implore you to listen. If you obey no other warning of mine, heed this: you will not be able to defeat her alone, though you are the only one capable of doing so."

Merlin felt his brows draw together. "That doesn't make--"

"It will," the Dragon said, almost soothingly. "Now. I will show you where the witch is hiding. It is up to you to find her."

~*~

Arthur had probably been in worse moods, but if he had he couldn't remember when. He was not ignorant of his own foul temper, but his ability to recognize it did little in the way of softening his words. Merlin had left, calling him 'sire' as if it would cheer Arthur up, and it had made him grit his teeth, wallowing all the more in this impossible situation.

 _Sire._ He had grown up hearing everyone refer to his father that way. It had been Arthur's birthright as well. It had once made him proud. To be like his father, and to be the prince of a great kingdom. He had always taken immense satisfaction and pleasure in his title, even as he recognized the great responsibility it implied. He liked the responsibility. Arthur had always felt oddly ready for it, oddly capable of it.

In the every day, he might falter now and then, but whenever he looked at the bigger picture, it had always been clear: his people came first. They would look to him, not only for their physical wellbeing, but morally as well, and Arthur intended to lead by example. He would ask no man to lay down his life where Arthur himself would not also risk everything. He would judge no burden acceptable for his people that Arthur himself would not suffer at their side. He would be fair with his justice and always, always be sure he had heard every side to a story before action was taken.

It had always felt good to know these things. It had made him feel good about himself, about his future. Surety of thought and purpose was a powerful thing, and Arthur had never had reason to doubt.

Until Guinevere. Until he loved her so completely and so effortlessly that he suddenly could not imagine any future without her. Not the one he had longed and trained for his entire life, nor any other. Life without her was the unthinkable future, and that was why, standing in his chambers, staring out the same window as Merlin left him, Arthur felt his heart clench and his stomach drop because from here, he could see the path that led to her house, and on the path he could see her, his life, his love, his Guinevere.

Walking, arm in arm, with her husband.

The marriage was not remotely legal, and Arthur did not for a moment think Guinevere was being unfaithful, but he could see the way Lancelot curved his body around her -- as if she were his life, his love, his Guinevere, too. No one noticed them. No one thought it odd that they walked together, loved together. No one would threaten to take her life for choosing Lancelot. No one paid them any attention whatsoever. No one but Arthur.

He could not expect Guinevere to spend her life waiting for him, not when there was someone so good, so loyal, so ready to love her at her side. For a moment, Arthur hated Lancelot, but it was a hate born of the fiercest jealousy, and it burnt out with the same ferocity it began.

His future without her stretched before him. It contained all the things he had thought were important, all the things he had always felt such pride, such goodness in before, and he felt nothing but empty and hollow. Despite her determination that he not leave Camelot with her, Arthur was not sure he _would_ be a very good king, not anymore.

Not without her as his queen.

There was a sharp knock at his door and though he was tempted to ignore whoever it was, Guinevere and Lancelot had disappeared from sight and it was probably unproductive to torture himself, imagining what they were doing now.

"Come in," Arthur muttered, turning away from the window.

It was Merlin. Of course. His clothes were in disarray along with his hair. He was covered in leaves and... bugs? Good heavens, he looked like he'd been wrestling a dragon.

"I have good news," Merlin said, his chest heaving with labored breaths. "Well... sort of."

"That's just what I was hoping for," Arthur said dryly. "Sort of good news."

"I believe your father is under an enchantment," Merlin said. "And that Morgana is behind it."

"Morgana," Arthur cursed, the feeling of loss and betrayal and anger and love crashing over him in waves anew. "We have no idea where--"

"I know where she's hiding," Merlin interrupted. "But we don't have much time. I'll tell you everything on the way."

It went against his every instinct, but Arthur decided to trust Merlin. It was more productive than brooding at the window.

And anyway if they were both killed in the attempt at least his torture would be at an end.

~*~

Merlin explained things as briefly to Arthur as he could. He counted on Arthur's determination that bravery, strength, and conviction of character could defeat any magical spell to keep the Prince from questioning exactly _how_ Merlin intended them to obtain some of Morgana's blood.

It worked like a charm.

They rode through the forest for a good deal longer than it had taken the Great Dragon to fly Merlin to Morgana's hideout, an abandoned castle in a neighboring kingdom that had fallen upon hard times many years past.

 _How many old castles are just lying around in ruin,_ Merlin wondered idly. _And why didn't the people who weren't using them as nefarious hideouts live in them?_

"There it is," Arthur shouted over the pounding of their horses' hooves, pointing.

Merlin nodded as the castle came into view. Silently, they tied the horses to a tree and made their way to the rear of the structure, where the Great Dragon had informed Merlin their entry would have less of a chance of being detected.

"How do you know the layout so well?" Arthur asked, looking at him with narrow eyes.

"I met someone who used to serve here before it was abandoned," Merlin fibbed.

Arthur just nodded like the story made sense. It would, of course, because Arthur probably didn't believe Merlin capable of carrying off a deception of any magnitude. Merlin silently prayed Arthur never stopped underestimating him.

They slipped into the back and began making a quiet but hurried trip through the castle. Merlin figured Morgana would be sitting in the throne room, pretending she was Queen of the World.

She wasn't, though. It took them an hour, but they searched every room of the castle. Arthur had his sword at the ready the entire time, and would continually burst into a room like a crusading knight, only to let his shoulders droop in disappointment every time they found it empty. Finally, they reached the first room they'd arrived in again, still Morgana-less.

"Well, that's anticlimactic," Arthur said.

Merlin was about to agree when there was a creaking sound; the door they'd first arrived at opened and Morgana walked through it. Her eyes widened when she saw them standing there and Merlin saw a similar expression on Arthur's face; no doubt his own looked exactly the same. It would have been comical if they weren't all about to try and kill each other.

"You have something we need," Arthur said, the first to recover from his surprise. He straightened and held his sword aloft.

A smirk appeared on Morgana's face. "Silly Arthur."

Arthur moved quickly, but Morgana was faster. She lurched around her half-brother and moved further into the castle. Merlin and Arthur pursued her at once. Half a dozen swords were decorated around the walls of the throne room, and as Merlin had first suspected, that was the room they followed her to. She seized a slender rapier from the wall and pointed it directly at Arthur.

"You never could best me with a sword," she taunted.

"And you just can't stop lying about anything," Arthur countered, and they began to hack at each other with what Merlin thought was really awful swordsmanship.

"You're confusing me with our father," Morgana parried. Arthur's eyes widened and he just barely dodged one of her angry blows. Merlin felt his heart clench.

"Uther is not your father," Arthur said with a tight jaw, lunging toward Morgana's exposed side. She countered easily.

"But he is," she seethed. "I am his dirty little secret. I am the trash he forgot to take out, the undesirable witch he has never called daughter, and surely never will now that he knows what I am."

Arthur paused, his sword wavering as he looked at her intensely. "You're my sister," he said slowly, wonderingly.

"I have never been more than your shadow," Morgana snapped, and they continued their battle.

Merlin thought he saw something in her eyes, however, at Arthur's declaration, the ease at which he made it, even now as they fought one another. He would have accepted her easily, Merlin realized, had she not sought to do such irrevocable damage. She could have had a seat at his table, been a trusted advisor, a beloved sister. Uther's lies had cost them all more than Merlin could bear thinking about.

While Arthur and Morgana continued their heightened sibling rivalry, Merlin looked around the room for anything he could quietly magic into falling onto Morgana's heador rendering her completely mute so she couldn't cast a spell or generally do anything that might let them come out of this thing alive and without anyone trying to kill Merlin for sorcery.

There was nothing that wouldn't look awfully suspicious hurtling itself at Morgana.

"Enough of this," Morgana muttered. "You're boring me, Arthur." Her eyes glowed and she quickly muttered a spell that had Arthur's sword flying out of his hand to clang against the floor on the other side of the room. Morgana posed with the point of her rapier against his throat.

So much for bravery, strength, and conviction of character, Merlin thought.

"I don't understand what happened to you, Morgana," Arthur said angrily, refusing to back down even in his incredibly vulnerable position. "Whatever our father's sins, what could I have possibly done to make you hate me so?"

"It's nothing you did," Morgana said tightly. "It's who you are. It's what Uther took from me."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Arthur said, his anger dying. "It's not too late. We can still--"

"What can we do?" Morgana laughed harshly. "What shall I do? Go back to Camelot, contrite, and beg Uther, who has not spared the life of any person who was accused of sorcery, to just... let it go? Pretend I'm not a witch? What will my life be worth to him now, Arthur? What is it worth to you?"

Arthur shook his head in frustration. "More than you will apparently ever know," he said quietly. "Even with your betrayal, with all that you've done, you will never understand what you mean to me; what you have always meant to me."

Morgana's face broke for a moment; Merlin saw it. Then, something came over her, something terrible, like a child whose heart had been torn too many times, who had been scared for too long and could not bear to feel another moment's fear. She raised her sword and Merlin knew she would strike Arthur down for daring to love her anyway.

Time stood still. Merlin realized he had spoken the words of a spell only after they had been uttered in a clear, powerful voice that sounded completely unlike his own. He couldn't say who looked more shocked -- Arthur, as he still knelt on the floor, and unfortunately still conscious, or Morgana, who was now unarmed and held, imprisoned, against the wall by an unseen magical force.

"Quick," Merlin muttered, kicking her sword at Arthur, who was still kneeling on the ground, stunned. Merlin did not have time for his stupefied bemusement; Morgana would recover from her shock and he could only keep her pinned in place for so long. "Quicker," Merlin suggested.

Arthur shook his head, grasped Morgana's rapier tightly in his hand, and followed Merlin to Morgana's side. Merlin rolled up the sleeve of her dress and she glared at him hatefully. Arthur made a cut in her forearm and Merlin held the vial they'd brought with them, letting a small amount of her magical blood drain into it.

"Merlin," Arthur said shakily, holding the vial with a white-knuckled hand.

"I'll keep her busy," Merlin said with more authority than he had ever used before to speak to Arthur. "Get that back to Camelot."

_And be happy. Be so happy with Guinevere. I'm sorry I might not be able to finish things with you like I was supposed to, but you'll be okay with her by your side._

Arthur's gaze jumped back and forth between Merlin and a quickly recovering Morgana, whose expression was beginning to cloud with rage. Her mouth opened. Before she'd finished speaking, Merlin cast a counter spell. She tried to move her arms and legs to no avail. If Merlin had a thousand years, he would never be able to determine what the look on Arthur's face meant. Finally, the future king nodded. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then simply laid a brotherly hand on Merlin's shoulder. It was the first time Merlin could remember feeling like Arthur saw him as a brother, of sorts. Or an equal, at least.

It almost made everything worth it.

Then, Arthur was gone.

And Merlin was alone with a very angry witch.

~*~

Lancelot was not a stupid man. He could be foolish -- what man in love was not? -- but rarely stupid. He had given his heart to Gwen the first time he saw her; when they had met again, under such horrible circumstances, she had saved him in ways he could never find the words to thank her for. She had also given him hope. If she returned his feelings, even in some small measure, there would always be hope.

It did not seem stupid to hope. Foolish, perhaps, but not stupid. Hope could never be stupid. It was one of man's most positive emotions. And if ever there were something worth hoping for, it was Guinevere, beautiful, kind, brave Guinevere . Loving her with unrequited ferocity was a fool's errand he would run a thousand times, for the rest of his life.

This ruse of Merlin's, however, was the first time Lancelot had ever considered that idea that he might, after all, be completely stupid.

The Rruhe had been almost laughably easy to track and kill; its heart blood was safe in a crystal vial, which itself rested in the satchel Gaius had provided them to place the herbs and other items required to break the enchantment. When they'd set out, Gwen had held onto his arm as they'd walked through town, and his heart had sped up because she was touching him without reason. But as soon as they'd arrived at the secret, out of the way spot Gaius had pointed them to, her arm had left his and he'd realized she had been doing it for show, after all. They were pretending to be married; what newlywed couple went for a romantic stroll through town without touching?

They split up, he to slay the beast, she to gather herbs. He had hoped to spend time with her, not in an attempt to change her mind or her heart, but simply to remind her of the way she'd once felt for him. If she could remember it, then perhaps if things did not work out between her and Arthur -- which he truly did not wish for, despite his heart's own yearnings -- then she would have no reason to spurn him, Lancelot.

It was strange, the way the death of hope felt. Stranger still was that its murderer was nothing of consequence, no passionate embrace or heartfelt declaration.

The first thing he noticed upon returning to the forge -- the logical place for a rendezvous point once all the necessary components had been gathered for the sword's creation -- was that Arthur was back and that Merlin was not with him.

The second thing he noticed was that Guinevere was very, very angry.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed. Her gaze was focused solely on Arthur, whose head was bent like a scolded child. Gaius and Elyan, masters of subtlety, were as far away from the couple as humanly possible, carefully studying the floor at their feet.

Lancelot stared openly.

"Someone had to get it," Arthur said, finding the will to glare at her. Glare! At Guinevere! Lancelot did not think himself capable of such a thing. He wondered how anyone could look upon her with anything but adoration.

Not that she looked particularly adoring herself at the moment.

"Someone," Gwen muttered. "Someone always means you, doesn't it? You're always doing this. You always put yourself at more risk than anyone else. Why don't you understand that you can't _do_ these things?"

"You honestly think I would rather sit around and do nothing than help with this task? I would rather die for a purpose such as this than live to be a thousand years old!"Arthur seethed.

"How can you say that?" Gwen shouted. "You are too important to be lost for such..."

"Such what?" Arthur demanded.

"Such trivial matters," Gwen finished tightly. "We would have found another way. If you died, there would... there would be no way." Her voice broke slightly. "You would be dead and there would be no other way."

"I'm fine," Arthur said, obviously trying to sound calm, though his unsteady voice betrayed him. "Really, it's Merlin you should be concerned for."

"Of course I am!" Gwen cried. "Do you think I'm not concerned for my friend just because I'm trying to get a drop of common sense through your thick, pigheaded skull?"

For a moment, it seemed that Arthur was about to retort again, but he and Lancelot both saw the strain in her shoulders, the worry on her brow, the tears in her eyes. Instead of speaking, Arthur tightened his jaw and moved, his hand grasping Guinevere's. Her hand squeezed back, though her eyes still spit fire and brimstone and terrible fear at him.

They were disappointed with one another, refusing to understand the other's point of view -- and yet they held onto each other, angry and united.

Lancelot could look at them no longer. Hope died between their clasped hands and their passionate countenance. Hope died as neither of them even noticed Lancelot's presence until Gaius cleared his throat and inquired about the Rruhe blood.

"It's here," Lancelot said, holding the bag aloft before Elian took it gratefully.Lancelot smiled at Arthur and Guinevere.

"Thank you," Guinevere said with great feeling, and in her eyes he saw not a kindling of affection, or a buried love -- he saw only guilt. Guilt for making him promises once that she hadn't been able to keep.

"It's all right," Lancelot said softly, nodding his head once. "It's over now."

~*~

This was not going to end well.

It was the last thought Merlin had before Morgana managed to get a spell off and toss him across the room. She muttered again and her arms and legs were free and they were circling one another.

"You," she whispered, staring at him, half in hate and half in... awe?

"I told you," he said, the old betrayal piercing him."I told you that there were other ways. That your magic was a gift, not a curse or a weapon to be wielded against those who don't understand you. We're supposed to be better than that."

"What do you know of it?" Morgana seethed. "You hide in the shadows. You hide what you are -- a mouse, scurrying around, doing Arthur's bidding while you bury what you can do, who you are. I was that mouse once, terrified and clinging to the darkness."

"You're worse now," Merlin said. "What do you think this castle is, if not a bigger mouse hole?"

"Shut up," Morgana snapped, then quickly muttered a spell that would have knocked Merlin unconscious had he not held out his hand and countered it. The spell bounced back and a shocked Morgana held her own hand up, the light and energy moving back and forth between their palms so quickly it elongated until it looked like a single beam, connecting them.

"We could have helped each other," Merlin shouted.

"Ha!" Morgana's eyes spit anger at him. "Before or after you tried to kill me?"

"Before," Merlin threw back. "You had gone too far. Why can't you see that you've gone too far? You're trying to destroy people who've done nothing but love you your entire life."

"They loved a lie," she cried. "Just like Arthur has loved a lie every time he looks at you. I see now how alike we are. Except you, Merlin, are content to be a mouse for the rest of your life."

"It won't always be this way," Merlin insisted, though he wasn't sure at all. If he survived this, if he made it back to Camelot, he had no idea what Arthur would have to say about any of this. It was possible that the very second Uther was in his right mind Arthur would announce that his servant was a sorcerer and the executioner would lead Merlin's welcome home party.

"Where do you get this infuriating hope?" she asked. "You believe so strongly that things will change. They won't. The people who aren't like us will always fear us."

"Not if we give them nothing to fear," Merlin said. "If we are good and just and kind they will learn there is nothing to fear."

"When someone holds power over you, there is always something to fear," Morgana said. "Why do you think I fear Uther so much?"

Merlin saw something then; he saw that Morgana looked genuinely scared and realized for the first time that it was fear, not hate, that motivated her every black action. Swallowing deeply, knowing that if he were wrong this could be the biggest mistake he'd ever made, Merlin took a step closer to her. The beam of light between them shrank and she gasped. Their gazes met, shocked and curious, and she took a step toward him. Merlin gasped this time. It was like... a tingling in his palm, warm and alive.

They each took a step at once, then another, and another, until their palms were half an inch apart. The warmth was amazing, powerful and alive, like nothing Merlin had ever felt before, and he had never felt more himself, or freer, not even when he sat by himself and played with his magic.

This was every spell he'd ever done, every warm fire, every good meal, every comforting embrace -- it was literally everything good he'd ever felt, contained in the palm of his hand. They looked at each other again, a measuring look, and moved at the same time, until their palms connected.

It was catastrophic. Indescribable. Stupefying.

He would never be the same again.

Morgana was breathing heavy and their fingers twined together on instinct; he was positive neither of them had made the conscious decision to do so. His palm was on fire, but it was such an amazing burn that he had no desire to pull away from it, even if doing so meant his own salvation. _This_ had to be what salvation felt like, this fire, this...

"You feel it," Merlin whispered.

"Yes," Morgana agreed, her voice equally hushed. "I don't..."

"Me either," Merlin said.

They both fell silent again; tightened the hold of their hands; stared, unashamedly, at the light that fought to free itself from their pressed palms.

"It was supposed to hurt you," Morgana muttered, confused. "It was supposed to bring terrible pain, and..."

"I know," Merlin said. "Yours, too." He quirked an eyebrow, as if to say, what goes around, comes around, and the most amazing thing happened.

Morgana smiled. It wasn't an evil smirk or a calculating half grin. It was wide and beautiful and reminded him so much of the friend he'd loved and identified with that Merlin found himself smiling back at her. Then they were standing there, palms pressed together, blinding, magical light between them, grinning at each other like idiots because they were feeling something neither had ever experienced before, something that apparently only existed when everything he was and everything she was came together without pretense or shadows... when neither of them were acting a thing like mice.

He should have been surprised when she kissed him, but he wasn't. Her lips were warm, and now, so were his. He wanted to touch more of her.

So he did. He touched all of her. She touched all of him.

And at every point, there was tremendous, blinding light.

~*~

Arthur had never ridden harder in his life. The guards who patrolled the lower tower jumped or ran out of the way as he approached. Arthur clambered off his horse and raced all the way to the throne room, the precious sword Elyan had forged strapped securely to his back. He forced his mind blank of all the information and emotion swirling through his thoughts. There would be time later to examine it all, to make sense of the secrets the people he loved best had seen fit to keep from him. For now, there could only be action. This madness, at least, he would put to an end.

The room was empty save for Uther.

Arthur closed the doors behind him gently. His father sat at his throne, staring out the windows with an unreadable expression on his face. Arthur began walking toward him.

"Hello, Father," he said quietly.

Uther seemed surprised at his presence. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be training the knights? You shouldn't be neglecting your duties, Arthur."

"You're right," said Arthur. "My first duty is to the King." He reached his father. "You're wearing a ring that I believe belonged to my mother. I'd like to see it."

Uther looked down at his right hand. "I can't let you touch it," he said, though he looked surprised when the words left his mouth. "I don't know why, but I can't let you."

Arthur sighed. "I was afraid of this." He drew his sword.

"What are you doing?" Uther looked alarmed.

"Father, I need that ring," Arthur said calmly. "It's making my life very difficult."

"Have you gone insane, Arthur?" Uther began to back away. "Guards!"

"No one is outside," said Arthur. "Just give me the ring, Father."

Uther drew his own sword. "I can't."

"I just want to see it."

"I can't." Uther suddenly lunged toward Arthur with a cry.

Arthur, though startled, easily parried the blow. Uther fought back in earnest. His father was a good swordsman, there was no doubt about it, but he was not as good as Arthur. And he was not as young as Arthur. Eventually, Uther would lose, and they both knew it. But Arthur didn't have time for this. He needed this to be over. So in a move that took Uther completely by surprise, Arthur feinted left, toward his father's unprotected side, which Uther went to block, and Arthur hit his father's head with the flat side of his sword. Hard.

Uther crumpled to the ground, hardly making a sound. Immediately, Arthur knelt down and twisted the dragonfly ring off the other man's finger. He allowed himself a moment to study it, to admire its beauty, to try and picture it on his mother's hand. Then he placed the ring on the table, lifted the sword, and brought it down as hard as he could.

A blinding light issued forth that forced Arthur to cover his eyes with his forearm, staggering back. After several moments the light was gone, and Arthur saw that the ring had been sliced neatly in half. With some effort, he removed the blade from the table -- he'd have to explain that somehow -- and pocketed the two halves of the ring.

Uther let out a small groan, and Arthur hurried to his side. "Father? Are you all right?"

"What -- what happened?" Uther sounded groggy.

"Don't you remember?"

"No. I can't... My head -- it hurts--"

"I'll get Gaius," Arthur said. "Don't move; I'll call for some guards to take you to your chambers."

When Arthur left the room, he felt a hundred stone lighter than he had when he'd entered it just a short time ago.

~*~

Merlin tried to stop smiling. He really did. It would not be at all convincing if he prostrated himself before Arthur, begging pardon and understanding for his magic if, the entire time, he could not stop grinning like an idiot.

His mind was a riot of conflicting thoughts about what had transpired with Morgana, but his body and heart were not. His heart was soaring, sated and hungry in equal measure by the connection they had established. His body was _alive_. More alive than he had ever been playing with clouds and watching sparks fly at his magical whim. This was everything he had been missing his entire life.

That he had found it with Morgana was of some concern; he'd passed out after a few hours of feeling the magical, crackling fire between them. He actually blushed to remember how they'd been with each other, how she'd touched him, how she'd _looked_ at him -- and when he'd woken, she had gone. She had left a rose in her place, blood red, exactly the shade of her wicked, beguiling smile. Merlin had it tucked into his bag. He wondered what would happen now, whether she would remain their enemy. He wondered how much he would share with Arthur and Gwen.

He wondered when he would see Morgana again.

At the gates of Camelot, Merlin paused, waiting for a moment, then continued on. It was, he decided, a good sign that Arthur had not given an order to capture him on sight; of course, that could merely mean that Arthur had more important things to attend to, like breaking Uther's enchantment. Best to be vigilant.

After stabling the horse, Merlin made his way slowly but surely through the castle. He saw Lancelot and waved briefly. Lancelot returned the gesture slowly, a bit sadly, and continued on his way without stopping to speak.

Arthur had done it, then; the enchantment was broken and he and Gwen would be roughly in the same position they had been in before.

Outside the Crown Prince's chambers, Merlin paused again. A knot of unease was slowly growing in his gut. He raised his fist to knock, then dropped it. Raise and drop, raise and drop -- he repeated the motion three more times before lurching forward and banging far too loudly to make up for the cowardice he felt.

"Come in," Arthur commanded.

The door opened slowly, because Merlin was not pushing it very hard at all. Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, he stepped gamely into the room and closed the door behind him. He and Arthur stared at one another for a long time.

"So," Merlin said, stretching the 'oh' sound out as long as possible.

"So," Arthur said, with a great deal more brevity.

"I imagine you might have some..." Merlin let it hang there.

"Questions?" Arthur offered.

"Those," Merlin said. "Sure."

Arthur nodded, considering. Then, he said, "About?"

Merlin cocked his head to the side and felt uncomfortably like a confused spaniel. "About..."

Arthur made a "get on with it" gesture with his hand.

"About what you saw," Merlin said in a sudden burst. It was as though he couldn't keep it inside another second without exploding.

"And what did I see?" Arthur asked in a too-calm voice.

Heart racing, palms sweating, and stomach churning, Merlin swallowed back a dry heave and looked Arthur straight in the eye. His voice, when it finally came, was much stronger than he felt.

"You saw me doing magic."

Arthur did the most extraordinary thing. He laughed. Then he bent over at the knee and guffawed.

"You," he whimpered out between chortles, "should see the look on your face..."

"This is not remotely the reaction I was expecting," Merlin muttered. He wondered if Arthur, shaken from his world view being shattered by the knowledge that Merlin was not completely useless, had had some sort of break with reality.

Letting out a final bark of laughter, Arthur wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm and straightened again to his full height. "I really needed that after the past few days," he confessed.

"I'm glad I amuse you," Merlin snapped before he remembered he had meant to be humble and apologetic. But how could he possibly maintain a countenance of contrition when forced to deal with such an insensible prat?

"Oh, you do, Merlin," Arthur agreed. "But just now I've won a bet with myself, so I find that I'm doubly pleased."

"A bet," Merlin repeated doubtfully.

"Yes," Arthur said. "I wagered with myself that you would not be able to keep your little magic tricks secret for another year, and as you can see, I've won."

"Another year," Merlin said slowly. His eyes widened. "Are you saying you...?"

"Knew? Yes." Arthur shrugged. "Not the entire time I've known you. I assume you've been hiding this your whole life?"

"Yes," Merlin confirmed, his mind numb with shock.

"I've only known since you -- and I _know_ it was you -- let yourself be captured in my bedchamber. Dragoon..." Arthur pulled his lips back from his teeth and hissed, "...the Great!" in what Merlin thought was a very poor and somewhat insulting impression.

"It was only to save Gwen," Merlin protested.

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "I figured that out. And then I thought about a great many other things." He smiled. "You're much smarter than you look, Merlin."

"Thanks...?"

Arthur cuffed Merlin on the arm. "And you're exactly as loyal as you look." Arthur looked down for a moment. "I've spent the past few months re-examining a great many of my beliefs. Magic is... dangerous. Potentially lethal. Often abused in the most abhorrent of ways." He cocked his head in acknowledgement. "Not unlike the blade of a sword, or the intentions of a good but powerful man."

"So you don't believe..." Merlin couldn't even finish the thought. He wondered if he might be dreaming. It would go a long way to explaining those lost four hours with Morgana.

"I believe," Arthur said simply, "that you are a good but powerful man. And I believe that you would never use that power to harm an innocent person." He raised his eyebrows. "My father, on the other hand..."

Merlin smiled tightly. "Is still king."

"And not inclined to re-examine any of his beliefs," Arthur said, sighing. "Then again, as those around me are so fond of pointing out -- he will not be king forever." There remained a deep sadness in Arthur's voice as he said this - sadness, but also, Merlin could swear, relief.

"No," Merlin agreed. They stared at each other for a moment. "So then, I should--"

"Get out, yes," Arthur agreed.

"Bye."

Merlin hurried out of the room, closing the chamber door behind him. In the hallway, he smiled, that goofy grin he'd earlier knocked off his face by force. Arthur hadn't even asked what happened with Morgana.

He smiled all the way back home. Merlin couldn't wait to tell Gaius the news. Well, maybe not _all_ of it.

~*~

He brought her flowers. They weren't much -- Guinevere hadn't really been overly fond of the roses Arthur had once brought her from the royal garden, so he had taken to picking her small bunches of the small buds of varying color that grew throughout the palace grounds. Those, she loved. _They tell me about you, Arthur,_ she'd said, inhaling them the first time he'd visited her, bundle in hand. _They show me which you found loveliest, what color or shape reminded you of me. These flowers show me more clearly than anything else exactly how you see me._

That had been the first afternoon they had lain together in her too-small bed, sweaty and stumbling and desperate for their own forever. He brought her wildflowers as often as he could, and he found it remarkable how many things they could express. He could say he was sorry; he could say he loved her; he could say she was still the loveliest thing he had ever seen in all his life.

What he could not say was "I'm so glad your erstwhile husband is gone," because he was still there.

Arthur was not the sort of man to skulk in the shadows and observe private conversations. And so it was with great surprise that he found himself ducking inside the back door of Guinevere's house, watching through a curtain as Lancelot wrapped his arms around the love of Arthur's life and held on like he was never letting go.

Guinevere's arms wrapped around Lancelot's neck, the palm of her hand briefly caressing the back of his head. Arthur knew what that felt like; she used it to soothe him when he was in a particular snit, and he found it utterly unacceptable that another man knew that exact brand of comfort.

"Goodbye," Guinevere said, tears in her voice. "I wish you such wonderful things."

"Perhaps there is a happily ever after for me down the road," Lancelot agreed. "I would wish you the same, but you've already found yours."

Arthur was mollified until Guinevere laughed, a broken a little sound that cut into his heart.

"I wish it were that simple," she whispered.

"It will be," Lancelot assured her, giving a final -- unnecessary, as far as Arthur was concerned -- squeeze to her back. He bowed, looking at her one last time, then disappeared out the door.

Guinevere closed it behind him and let her forehead rest against the wood.

Arthur, disgusted with himself and her for lowering him to the point where he avidly listened to every word of their private conversation, cleared his throat loudly.

She spun around with a gasp, covering her mouth with a hand that shook ever so slightly. Arthur parted the curtain and stepped into the main room.

"Arthur," she whispered, lowering her hand to her heart. "You frightened me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt," he said, feeling hollow. _I wish it were that simple._ What did that mean? She wished she did not love them both? She wished she were free to leave with Lancelot?

Well, she was. If her heart did not lie with him, Arthur had no interest in holding it hostage, or binding Guinevere to him because she felt the need to keep her promises.

"Interrupt," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes.

"Your romantic farewell," Arthur said, gesturing expansively with the wildflowers. "It was very touching. I can only imagine how you'll pine for each other until the next time you're reunited."

"Reunited," she said in the same tone, her back growing stiffer.

Arthur sensed danger, sensed he was being wildly inappropriate, but was unable to censor himself through the wrenching pain he felt at the thought of her in Lancelot's arms, sharing her little bed with him, sharing her too-big heart with him, just like how she'd offered him her comfort not a few moments ago.

"You are not bound by your promises," Arthur said before he could think better of it. "I would never... I would never expect you to wait. I told you I did not expect you to wait, certainly not if you had a... better offer." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, like bile.

"A better offer," she repeated, as though the words he was saying did not make sense to her.

They stared at one another and he tried to think of something else to say, something that would make this right, or different. He could not find a way to apologize without admitting he was wrong, and he wasn't sure that he was. He wanted to be wrong. For the first time in Arthur Pendragon's life, he wanted so badly to be wrong.

He also needed to speak. She looked lost, and he'd done that to her. He opened his mouth, but before another word could emerge, she began to speak.

"Do you know how many promises I would break to stay with you?" she asked, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Honor is nothing to me. I made promises to Lancelot and I cast them aside the moment I thought there was a chance for us. I would spend my life as your mistress if there were no other way. Is that what you need to hear? Will that convince you?"

Arthur opened his mouth again, and once again, she was quicker than he.

"I have gravely injured a good man because I turned to him when I thought I could not have you, and turned him away the moment I learned that I could. And more awful still, I would turn him away a thousand times more, hurt him a thousand ways, if he was all that stood between us."

"Stop." Arthur raised his hand toward her, then dropped it. He realized his other hand still grasped the wildflowers and he walked to her slowly, as unsteadily as he had ever moved, and pressed them against her chest, waiting until her hand rose to clutch his fingers and the flowers. He offered them to her because he was sorry, and because he loved her, and because she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen and he could not imagine his life without her.

"I'm a fool," he muttered, and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, her jaw, and the graceful tip of her nose. Her face was unresponsive, so hurt and angry she was shaking. He forced himself to think of what she had gone through these past days -- yet another threat to her life because of his father, a false marriage to a man she knew was in love with her, and the worry she'd so artfully expressed to Arthur about his own safety. Jealousy was apparently a color he did not wear well at all.

"You are a fool," she agreed, her voice heavy and thick with tears.

"I am. And I'm so desperately in love with you I cannot think, I cannot reason, and I certainly cannot bear the sight of you pressed against another man, a man who loves you nearly as much as I do, without losing what is left of my unthinking, reasonless mind."

"Arthur," Guinevere whispered, and he kissed her mouth, because she had said everything she needed to say already.

"I'm sorry that I did need to hear you say that," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said quietly, surprising him. She looked into his eyes, brushed her palm against his cheek, then moved it to the back of his head; comforting, stroking, and he thought the way she touched him felt different than the way he'd seen her touch Lancelot. She had offered the other man comfort, yes, but her hand lingered on Arthur, loath to separate from him, longing to touch him as long as they had together.

"You're not?" He sounded disbelieving to his own ears.

"No," she said. "After all, I finally got the Crown Prince of Camelot to admit he's a fool. It's been a fairly good day for me."

Arthur smiled, the first real smile of utter peacefulness that he could remember in days. "You look unbearablysmug, my love," he said.

She smiled back, and the sun came out as far as Arthur was concerned. "That, my lord," she said, pressing her lips to his once, briefly, "is exactly how I feel."

Her attempt at brevity was unwelcome. He swept her into his arms and did not stop moving until they were clasped tightly together on the tiny bed. The wildflowers were crushed beneath them, their scent released into the air.

Arthur spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night apologizing to Guinevere with the desperate yearning of a fool in love.

= end =

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We hope you enjoyed reading this half as much as we enjoyed writing it for our dear friend. Happy New Year, and may all of our collective 2011 be filled with good fortune, good friends, and good Merlinfic. The title of this story is from a song of the same name by The Weepies.
> 
> Our improvisational elements, given by Amelia: an ostrich, a dragonfly, Gwaine, a bit of detective work, and a fake wedding.
> 
> Oh, and -- originally we sent the following to her and said that _it_ was the story, because we thought playing that little joke on her would be hysterically funny. She was so nice about it, however, that we ended up feeling bad instead. Thanks a lot, A.!
> 
> No Joy In Mudville  
> by Jade and Sarea Okelani
> 
> "I can't marry you," Guinevere told Arthur. It made him sad to hear such heartbreaking words from her beautiful lips.
> 
> "Of course you can," Arthur argued. "Anyway, it'll just be a marriage of convenience until they change the laws for Merlin and me. I've already got your ring, see? It's a dragonfly. The eyes are diamonds."
> 
> "It's... lovely, but the ring isn't why I can't marry you," Gwen said unconvincingly.
> 
> "But it took Merlin ages to find it," Arthur continued. "Quite a lot of detective work to track down just the right shape. Did you know dragonflies come in all shapes and sizes? Big ones, little ones, fat ones, skinny ones--"
> 
> "Arthur, I cannot marry you because my heart lies with another," Guinevere interrupted because she could not bear to hear about another type of dragonfly.
> 
> Arthur's jaw worked angrily. "Lancelot," he hissed.
> 
> "No," a voice said from behind them, "Not Lancelot."
> 
> "Gwaine," Gwen said, her hand pressed to her heart. "I told you to wait outside."
> 
> "The other women are starting to flock," Gwaine admitted without modesty.
> 
> "Of course," Gwen said. "Arthur - good luck with Merlin. I'm sure things will work out."
> 
> "But I'll miss you," Arthur said, for he was a confused sad panda.
> 
> Gwen climbed onto the back of Gwaine's ostrich and the two rode it into the sunset.
> 
> =the end=


End file.
